You can call me Anto! Iâm 20, she/her and I speak both Italian and English so sorry for eventual spelling mistakes :,)
I had originally opened this blog to promote my original work but lately Iâve been feeling old ao3/Wattpad fanfic nostalgia so Iâve decided to try and start posting something abt fandoms Iâm really into (these may change with time). Take it as writing practice đŤĄ
You can also find me on:
Wattpad: ant0inne (inactive)
AO3:antoimne
Quotev: antoimne (inactive)
Fandoms Iâll be writing for:
-creepypasta
-identity v
+ maybe some resident evil stuff and probably more but weâll see
You can find my masterlist here!
Rules:
-dni if youâre a bigot in general (including homophobes, racists, Trump supporters, Zionists eccâŚ)
-as for now I donât plan on writing nsfw but if I ever do minors please donât interact.
-will probably write a lot of ooc/non canon cuz itâs fun + dark content/angst
-also might use this blog for random shit sometimes cuz why not
-idk Iâll probably add more, just be a decent human being I guess đđđź
My asks are always open and Iâll reply as soon as I can! (Mind you Iâm an uni student so sometimes I might take a while).
Aaand if you came all the way here hope you have a good day/night! :)
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âThe world is in pieces, drowning in the tragedy of human recklessness and greed.
Tobias Rogers is living his own personal tragedy. Losing his sister means youâre all he has left.
He just wants to keep you close, where he knows youâll be safe and secure. You, on the other hand, start feeling oppressed by his excess of zeal.
Maybe itâs all just overthinking in his mind. Nothing can happen to you, right? After all, youâre the main characters of that fragile, personal equilibrium you've builtâ.
Tw: character death, gender neutral reader, alternate universe, obviously non canon, hinted depression, probable medical inaccuracies, illnesses, this will be angst/hurt no comfort so brace yourself </3.
note:this was an itch Iâve had for some time, doing the whole apocalypse scenario. Also this was started in a very bad time for some stuff irl so I just wanted to get it out </3 This is going to be super short and honestly Iâve been feeling lobotomized for the past idk weeks, months? So itâs not the greatest work ever but hey, itâs all for self indulgence, exploring this dude more and shit and giggles
Five months.
151 days.
One hundred fifty-oneâ that was how long youâd been living in hell.
You could barely remember how it all started. Your mind struggled to piece together the absurdity of it all.
It was absurd. Completely unbelievable, in fact.
Your life had always been quiet, simple, and easy.
Living in your small town, taking the bus every morning at 6:30 sharp for college. Spending the time between lessons and lunch with your boyfriend and friends. The comfort of your bed when you finally rested at night.
It was never perfect for you. Often, you wasted all your time in bed, staring at the ceiling even when you had those rare moments of freedom from what routine required.
Time flew, and you felt guilt for wasting yet another day.
You knew it was pointless to be so harsh on yourself. Your mental health was surely not the best- hadn't been in a long time, which only contributed more to that endless spiral you often got sucked into.
You didnât do that on purpose, after all.
Yet, looking back now? Oh, how you would give anything to spend even just one more day in that life.
Routine had been what kept you going. You were not 14 anymore. You had responsibilities, people you couldnât give up so easilyâ Tobias. That was truly what kept you going.
You kept being functional, holding your personal burdens to yourself. You felt lost without it.
If weekends and free time were just a momentary loss from your anchor, something passing that wouldâve been over by Monday, your current situation felt like a death sentence. Final.
You werenât sure when this would all endâ or if there would even be an ending at all.
All you knew was that your stability had been taken, and it had taken a harsh toll on you.
The world had become unrecognizable. All those things that had once seemed so grantedâ food, clean waterâ were now a rarity.
You mourned your old life. There wasnât one day you passed without indulging in a bitter, mean nostalgia.
Couldnât stand the stench of those creatures. How nobodyâ not even those politicians who claimed to love their peopleâ seemed to do anything. They were leaving you to die. People were dying and turning into those violent, brain-dead creatures, and no one seemed to care.
You felt utterly hopeless and lost. And you were sure it was those rich who had caused it all to begin with.
The news had always stated, back when everything began, that some sort of biohazard had happened in a lab built not long time prior near your city.
Every single person you saw was saying not to worry, claiming it was just a minimal incident that would be easily contained.
The lab was linked to your college and used by students, so it was only natural that people trusted it. How could they not?
But then weird things started to happen.
Many shepherds and pastoralists began reporting their animals acting strangely.
At first, it was as if the animals were catatonicâ a newspaper statedâ but then they began to fall seemingly dead to the ground, weird liquids leaking from their mouths. The animals had started to smell rotten and then became aggressive. Feral.
The first case reported was that of a sheep trying to bite the pastor so hard the man stated he felt as if the animal was actually ripping his leg off.
But then things took a completely different turn.
A couple of weeks after the attack, the shepherd had started to feel sick.
Media and doctors tried to keep the general commotion low, stating it was probably some possible sickness due to the animalâs bite. Some common bacteria, perhaps.
Your boyfriendâs sister, Lyra, was actually one of the trainee students working at the lab at the time.
Sheâd always been skeptical, and you often discussed the case with her.
Tobias had always been quite pragmaticâ or rather, didnât want to add any more worries to himself. He dismissed you as a âconspiracy theoristâ and left the room, rolling his eyes whenever you two began ganging up on him for apparently ânot seeing what they were doing right before his eyesâ.
Yet Lyra saw more than anyone else could, and she saw with clarity.
One of the few things you could still recall clearly was one night, as sheâd called Toby in a shaky, urgent voice.
You were there with him right when it happened.
âWeâre being taken into quarantine. The shepherd guyâs gone mad. I donât even know what it is, Tobes! He seems like a corpse. We were called urgently, thought we lost him, but then he woke up and began attacking the staff in the operating roomâŚâ
âWhâwhat the fuck do you mean? Iâm coming right now, Lyra. Iâllâ fuck it! Iâll pick you up. I donât like this one bitâ.
âNO! Toby, please, for once in my life, you have to listen to me. Iâll kill you myselfâ and be very angryâ if you come here!â
Heâd stopped right on his tracks as Lyra sighed heavily on the other end of the phone.
âNobodyâs allowed in or out. The labâs completely shut⌠I donât know whatâs happening, and I donât know how this will evolveâŚâ
Lyraâs voice began glitching, the line on her side getting weaker.
ââ just as a precautionâ take some supplies⌠y/n tooâ are they with you?â â
Her voice was cut off by a loud, metallic sound before a series of beeps began to ring.
âF-fuck!â
After that, the problem got way too out of hand to be dismissed.
Everyone began talking about some yet-to-be-cleared infection that seemed to turn people into the fucking undead.
From what was reported, the infection spread through bites, saliva, and contact with blood. It seemed to especially attack the nervous system. It was capable, among other effects, of damaging and enlarging the brainâ so much as to rip the tissues apart, like a slice of meat. The damage was so terrifyingly vast that even the cranium grew deformed by the brainâs anomalous mass, making the infectedâs heads take on a sort of swollen, inflated appearance.
The amygdala and prefrontal cortexâs tissues were among the first areas affected, leading to impulsivity and aggression. Neurotransmitters and hormones became unbalanced. Synapses were disrupted.
Cognitive abilities were significantly reduced, alongside the senses. Sight was the one that suffered the most damage, as the infected were almost completely blind, only apparently seeing the world around them as shadows.
Smell was the only sense that seemed rather intact.
Speech was almost entirely compromised.
That was the last thing Lyra was able to tell you bothâthe last youâd heard from herâbefore there was a breach in the containment chamber where the shepherd had been detained.
Theyâd been able to study him in the isolated room until one researcher had gotten infected as well. Apparently, another viral strain was airborne, spreading alarmingly fast and wide, infecting masses of people all at once. Too bad it was discovered at the poor researcherâs expense.
After that, itâd been almost instant for the virus to spread. Lyra couldnât escape either.
There had been a count of the possible infected, a list spread around to see if anyone knew the people involved, and Lyra Rogers was estimated among them.
Sheâd gone radio silence ever since that last call, where sheâd informed you both of the new, still-secret information about the once newly infected man. Deep down, youâd known for a long time that something bad had happened to her.
To say Toby was in pieces wouldâve been an understatement. Heâd always been incredibly attached to his sister, and feeling so helpless, useless, and unable to rescue her from the hell sheâd been trapped in was fucking frustrating in ways heâd never thought heâd know.
âIâm going thereâ.
A pause.
He slowly turned to face you, grabbing his jacket. Youâd moved to his place ever since this all started. There were still no public cases reported, but your city was in a constant state of tensionâ a stillness in the air, similar to the thick pall you feel before a terrible, devastating storm.
âIâm going to rescue Lyra. I canâtâ I canât leave her there any longer. I need to know- to see sheâs okayâ.
âToby, you know she told you not toââ
âI know what she fucking said!â He hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
âIâm sorry, I didnâtâ didnât mean to raise my voice. Itâs just⌠this is killing me. I need to see her. Thatâs all I need right nowâ.
You stared at him as if heâd spoken an alien language. His eyes were dulled out, exhausted, circled by purple-tinged tissue. He looked as if he hadnât slept in daysâ which, in fact, he hadnât. Ever since youâd stopped receiving anything but silence from Lyra, he couldnât function properly. Or rather, he functioned worse than he usually did.
You couldnât complain. He was lovingâ a bit harsh sometimes, yet he adored and cared for you a lot. But he was like a mine, ready to explode at the smallest thing. Impulsive. Moody. Unpredictable.
This had all grown worse after the incident.
âOkay⌠but Iâm coming with youâ.
You stated it as a fact, and he groaned.
âThe hell you areâ.
âI wonât let you go aloneâ
He frowned, a loud sigh escaping his lips.
âThereâs no use arguing, is there?â
And thatâs how it all became real.
Really fucking tangible.
Not that it wasnât before, but standing outside the labâs gates gave you both undeniable evidence of the hell humans had created.
Oh, how good we are at destroying ourselves with our very hands.
You sat in Tobyâs wrecked pickupâ a black Dodge Ram Lyra had bought from a friend a long time ago. Its windshield was the only thing separating you both from the hell spreading not far away. The labâs metal door had been destroyed, lying open on the ground with a loud thud. A hoard of those brainless-looking infected slowly crept out, spreading through the entrance yard toward the road outside.
Perfect fucking timing.
Tobyâs eyes widened. In a swift motion, he opened the storage compartment in front of you and took out a disposable surgical mask from a box heâd boughtâ one heâd definitely planned to use way before youâd expected.
The thought made your chest swirl with something dangerously close to hurt. What if you hadnât been there? What if you hadnât forced him to bring you along? He wouldâve gone alone. Heâd done one of his impulsive stunts and risk dyingâ
But it didnât happen, right? You were together after all.
Thatâs all that mattered now.
âToby! Wait, pleaseââ But it was no use. The wild-haired boy sprinted out of the car, and you simply jolted after him, taking a mask for yourself.
Your steps collided harshly with the semi-wet road as soft rain poured from the sky.
The only gentle thing granted to you in that situation, really.
The hoard of infected moved around without a real destination, spreading around you both.
Toby spotted an old pipe tube, moving to grab the rusty object as he shielded you.
âDonât g-give me that face,â he said, attempting to tranquilize you.
âIâve got my t-tetanus vaccine done, or whatever itâs called.â
His attempt at reassurance quickly faded as he shot a glance back at you, his expression turning seriousâfar more serious than youâd ever seen it.
âGo back inside the carâ
âNoâ If you really wanted to find Lyra, youâd do this together.
âYou can be so fucking s-stubborn. And annoyingâ
Though the infected couldnât see you clearly, they could still smell you. As you made your way toward the lab, a couple of the creatures lurched toward you, clumsy and unsteady.
Toby swung the pipe, smashing their faces to the ground with natural ease.
Your eyes widened in horror as you looked down at the bodies. The liquid leaking from their tissues was nothing like the vibrant crimson youâd expect from a normal person. Their blood looked far more like something rottenâ dark red mixed with an unnameable brown substance, diluted with a thick layer of transparent liquid, similar to raw egg whites.
The sounds those people (if there was still anything human in them, apart from their body) emitted were grotesque, beast-like.
Despite all those disturbing oddities, when the bodies lay limp on the ground, you couldnât help but feel a wave of guilt. They looked almost peaceful. Almost normal.
Those bodies had once hosted someoneâs child, friend, sibling, or lover.
And now they were nothing. Empty. Cold.
âWe killed people! Oh! Oh God! We just killed people!â
The admission escaped your lips as Toby frowned at you.
âThese are not people anymore,â he said. âThey wanted to hurt us. These âpeopleâ were l-long gone!â
Seeing your terrified face, Tobyâs eyes softened. He quickly gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before turning to smash yet another infected in the head. Some blood droplets flew onto your mask.
âBesides⌠itâs on me. Iâm doing this. You did nothing wrong, okay?â His voice was firm. âBut I have to protect us both. I need to protect youâ.
You walked through the dilapidated, wrecked halls of the lab, careful with every step you took.
Toby stayed silent, occasionally muttering grunts or frustrated phrases like âWhere the hell is she?â
Your progress came to a sudden halt when you arrived in a packed room. A group of infected piled onto one another, stumbling and blocking the way forward.
âLetâs get out of hereâŚâ More and more of the contaminated began moving toward you âBefore we get surrounded completely.â
Toby swung the pipe left and right, painting the walls with corpses as he carved a path out of the lab.
âDamn it!â he hissed as you finally stepped outside, the infected turning toward you.
He threw the bloodied pipe to the ground and knelt, gripping his messy curls with both hands. His breath came in short, ragged gasps.
âI feel sick. I canât do this. I canât do this⌠fuck. FUCK!â
You knelt beside him, not knowing what to say. What could you say to make this better? Nothing. This was all so vast, so far beyond your control. So fucking terrifying. It was out of your hands.
You knew Toby didnât like sympathy, so you stayed near himâ silent, a steady presence he could grab onto.
âTobs⌠we should go,â you said. âMaybe we can come backâ â
The words died in your throat as your gaze fell upon a figure slumped against the metallic fence surrounding the perimeter of the lab.
âOh myâ is thatâŚ?â
Tobyâs gaze immediately followed yours, and his eyes lit up.
âLyra!â
He jumped up, running toward her. You followed, retrieving the pipe heâd thrown away.
âLyra! Youâre here! I c-canât believeâ fuck! I canât believe youâre really here!â
He approached her slowly, crouching beside her.
Lyraâs head lolled to the side, her face half-hidden by overgrown blonde bangs.
âLetâs go backâ he spoke rapidly, enthusiastically, pupils dilating like a child whoâd finally found his favorite candy âIâve gathered enough resources for all three of usâŚâ
But when his hand moved to gently caress her cheek and turn her face toward him, all joy died in an instant.
Lyra was pale, scarred, and bloodied. Her eyes were blurry, as if cataracts had clouded them. A string of saliva bubbled from her mouth.
âLyra? Lyra?!â
Tobyâs voice grew urgent, his eyes wide, as the girl stared emptily ahead.
She mustâve still somehow recognized his voice, because she turned to face him.
âToâbâŚâ
Her voice was hoarse, as if pronouncing those three letters was enough to scar her throat.
âLyra⌠please! Yes itâs me, Tobs.â
âAâŚwayâŚâ
âAway?â His shaky words were interrupted as Lyra suddenly attacked her brother, pushing him to the ground as she tried to tear off his mask.
Compared to the others who had attacked you earlier, Lyraâs movements were jerkier, almost as if she was hesitant. Like a small part of her consciousness was still there, trying to fight whatever primal force was making her act like a rabid animal.
âLyra! PleaseâŚâ
Toby didnât fight. He simply tried to push her off himself. He didnât want to hurt Lyra. He did not, couldnât.
You didnât want to harm her either. Yet it was as if your body moved on its own. Before your brain could register what was happening, you took the pipe and hit Lyra in the face. Her body rolled off him.
Tobyâs eyes were wide as he looked up at you, then back at his sisterâs unmoving body.
The pipe fell from your hands.
âIâm⌠IâmâŚâ You couldnât even form a coherent sentence before Lyra turned to you. Her face contorted in pain as she grabbed Tobyâs leg. Her mouth opened monstrously as she darted forward, ready to bite his lower limb.
Your heart raced, ready to screamâ before Toby moved. He grabbed the pipe discarded beside him and reflexively hit her in the head again.
The usual rotting liquid began leaking from the wound. Blonde hair stained scarlet as she stopped moving completely.
Toby quickly got up, panting, and threw the metallic tube as if it burned him.
You both stared at her for seconds that felt like an eternity, assessing her final, utter stillness.
He didnât say a word. Instead, he picked up Lyraâs body and headed toward the old pickup.
Lyra was laid in the backseat. Looking at her like that, she seemed calmâ like sheâd just gotten off a tiresome shift and was taking a nap. She looked as if she could wake up at any moment, laughing and telling you about some new experiment or how annoying a colleague had been all day.
You turned back to face the road ahead, leaving her image in the fantasy youâd built. It was better to keep it that way.
The drive was quiet. You didnât even ask Toby where he was going.
It sure wasnât either of your houses.
Heâd gone in the opposite direction.
He parked the pickup outside a big lake on the outskirts of the city, near the main highway leading to its center.
âLyra loved it hereâ he said, breaking the silence âItâs better to do this now, while itâs still peaceful. It seems we donât have long leftâ
He took Lyraâs body in his arms. The two of you walked to sit at the edge of the lake.
âThis is so unfairâ Tobyâs eyes were hollow as he looked at the sun sparkling on the water.
âShe was the kindest, most selfless person I know. She always tried to fix things for everyone, to help othersâŚâ His voice cracked âYou see, even when Dad got mad at us when we were younger, sheâd stand up for me. Shield me from his shit. Sing lullabies as she slept next to me, holding my hands, making it all seem like a game, distantâ.
You stayed silent, feeling hopeless. Uncomfortable, even. Maybe it shouldâve been you. You wished you couldâve swapped places with Lyra.
âShe used to do this particular⌠game. Can I even say that?â Toby chuckled at himself, lost deep in the memory âWhenever Dad drank too much and started chasing me to hit me with his belt, sheâd take my hand and run with me. So fast! Sheâd found this spot next to Momâs old wardrobeâ actually it was inside, I think. Inside the wardrobe, there was this secret space Mom used for the few jewels sheâd left, since dadâs greedy ass took everything. Lyra used to hide me thereâ
ââShhh! This is a hide-and-seek, super hard game! Stay hidden so you can win, yeah?ââ Toby mimicked her voice, going a pitch higher ââDadâs playing like the bad monster, and if you win as a knight, heâs gonna take us to the park and buy lots of ice cream!ââ
He wiped his face, chuckling despite everything.
âSheâd wink and close the wardrobe door, and Iâd stay there âtil she came back to free meâ all beaten up, while Dad collapsed on the couch. If i believed in it iâd have sworn she was my guardian angel, y/nâ
Toby turned to face you, his eyes clouded by a sheen of tears. Ever since youâd met him in one of your classes, youâd never seen him cry.
You didnât know how to react. The whole situation felt almost uncomfortable. You took his face and buried it in your chest.
âIâm so incredibly sorry, baby. Iâm so, so fucking sorry.â
You helped him give Lyra a burial as proper as you could.
Except it wasnât an actual burial. You let her body sink down, slowly, to the floor of the lake sheâd loved so much.
Seeing her disappear completely, Toby cried for hours. You didnât know how long, but it was enough for his eyes to redden, the skin inflamed, and your shirt to be soaked where heâd pressed his face.
âShe was smartâ you added cautiously, wanting to say something good but avoid upsetting him further âAnd she died serving her purposeâ to help others. Plus⌠she recognized you, Tobs. I think she tried really hard not to hurt you.â
He nodded against your chest, holding onto your arms like a lifeline.
âIn a wayâŚâ You hesitated, then continued âAt least she died close to you. Before she could fully become one of those thingsâŚâ
Your words must've stung a nerve in him as he suddenly pushed away from you, frowning. He dried his eyes, his demeanor shifting completely as he stood up.
âWeâ we should go.â
Did you mess up? Had you said anything wrong?
Shame rose like a violent wave of blood to your head as you made your way back into the pickup.
The drive was once again silent. A different kind of quiet, though.
You wanted to ask if youâd upset him. Ask if he was angry at you. It was already too much. You couldnât have him turn on you.
You were all he had, too, anyway. He couldnât be angry, could he?
You both went back to his apartment.
âStart packing,â he said âWeâre getting out of here.â
âOut of your house?â
âOut of the cityâ His breath came ragged as he resumed speaking. âThoseââ He paused, massaging his temples before continuing, as if elaborating whatever he meant to say physically strained him âThose things spread all over the lab. Iâm sure the virus is already in the air as we speakâ.
âButâ â
âNoâ His voice was firm âPlease. Lyraâsâ it was enough. I donât want to risk it. I canâtâ He sounded jaded as he took off his mask.
You copied him, forgetting you still had the fabric tissue on in the first place.
âJust listen to me, damnit. Don't make this even more difficult than it is. Pleaseâ.
He sighed loudly before speaking again.
âWeâll go tomorrow, yeah? Leave the city. Just you and me. Be safe a state away or two. Maybe even flee the countryâ.
He reached out to hold your hand, fingers intertwining as you nodded.
Tomorrow? Okay. Yeah.
It was enough time to take your things and pack everything into two camping backpacks Toby had bought an undefined amount of time before.
It seemed to fit, all of it working so well. Yet, as you drove past the desert streets the next dayâ tires screeching against the asphalt between concrete blocksâ big military trucks appeared, blocking your way.
âHalt! Where are you going?â
âWe gotâ we gotta reach some family out of the city, sir.â Toby lied.
âToo bad the cityâs blocked, young man. Itâs an order from the Department of Public Safety. Youâre gonna have to go back home.â
The man looked straight at Toby over his mask, tightening his grip on the rifle just enough to suggest obedience.
âY-you canât be for realââ
But there was no use resisting.
You squeezed Tobyâs arm, nodding to the officer and begging him to turn around and drive back. It wouldâve been ironic to die with a bullet between your eyes after the shit youâd been through already, wouldn't it?
Thatâs how the two of you had gotten into literal, fucking hell.
151 days of finding shelter. Trying to ration food to save enough and avoid risking your lives twice a week, hoping for a can of stale beans and some hot water.
The containment had failed; âSurprisingly enoughâ you could feel Tobyâs voice play in your head, sarcastic and bitter.
The virus had spread fast. People had been taken by surprise, understandably unprepared for such a disaster.
Nor were the police or your local doctors.
Hopping from shelter to shelter, youâd now stabilized in a small treehouse at the back of some abandoned house on the outskirts for quite some timeâ probably a few weeks, though it was hard to tell. Every day was the same, and time was a luxury you couldnât afford.
Youâd traded Tobyâs car for bandages, a few bottles of clean water and bread a few weeks prior. The new, insane gas prices in your city made it pointless to keep it anyway. Better to make profit off what you had.
Toby took the ladder away, ensuring no one could enter your hideout. You laid down on an old mattress.
It was cold. Yet you had to take it. You couldnât risk dying by lighting a fire on the wooden floor of the house.
There were so many incredibly weird ways you could die, more than youâd ever cared to think of.
Toby took an old wool scarf and hung it around you.
âI know itâs cold.â
âIt doesnât matterâ you said. âI know itâs a sacrifice for our safety, being up here.â
âYeah.â
He observed you, his gaze slithering over your form. You felt patheticâ small, cradled in the scarfâs softness, seemingly ridiculously helpless and weak.
Yeah, it had really taken a toll on you. The whole situation.
Youâd done everything for those weeks alongside Toby to stay alive, to keep going. Yet you had gotten to a point you felt exhausted. Completely drained.
You felt selfish. The world was going to hell, and you were there worrying about your stupid brain, playing tricks that made you sad? And you had the guts to complain.
How could you?
You were already burdening Toby, you were sure. Heâd have been way better off without you.
âYou should leave me here.â
The words escaped your lips before you could even realize what you were saying.
âWhat?â
âYou should⌠leave me hereâ You spoke again, suddenly unsure, as if youâd reconsidered stepping back from the massive bomb youâd just dropped.
âThe hell are you s-saying, all of a sudden?â
âIâm saying Iâm burdening you.â
Paraphrasing wouldnât make it sound less idiotic. But there was no point in talking useless crap at this point. It wouldnât serve either of you.
âOh my fuckingâ did you manage to find a way to get high or drunk behind my back?â He spat out, mocking.
âWeâve been going for how long? Three months? Itâs already been far too long. I canâtâ I canât do this anymore. Iâm just so tired, Tobs. Whatâs the point?â
âYou canât be serious!â His voice strained, raspy like a rake scraping up and down his larynx âAfter all the shit weâve been throughâ fuck you!â youâre just going to give up on me?â
âItâs not what I meant.â You sunk deeper into the woolen embrace, closing your eyes as if, just by hoping hard enough, you could disappear into a void of nothingness and sleepâ hibernating forever.
âNo?â His voice came out strained ââCause it fucking seems like that to me.â
He got up, pacing back and forth in the tiny space of your shelter. He massaged his right temple, then tightened his fists at his sides.
âJustâ why? Is it something I did? Something I made you think?â what, whatever that is, I promise weâ I can fix it.â
âItâs notâŚâ You felt physically drained again just pronouncing those few words.
His voice overpowered yours.
ââ you just gotta talk to me, though! I canâtâ canât do it alone, and I canât read your mind. So just please, donât shut me out!â
âI said, itâs none of that!â You pushed out all the strength you had left to raise your voice, snapping him out of his self-destructive spiral of misery.
You pushed yourself up, closing the distance between you both. You caressed his cheek, your thumb tracing circles over his cheekbone.
âI didnât mean to upset you. Iâm sorry⌠It's just a stupid thought circling in my head. I think Iâm just scared, really.â
Hearing your own words echo like that made you cringe in embarrassment. You tensed up.
âScared?â He frowned, his hand moving to rest on your wrist as he felt you tense. He caged you in place.
âThat youâll eventually find out how useless and burdensome I am. That youâll get tired of me, and itâll suck. That youâll leave me behind, and Iâll be a mess.â You sighed, your breath coming short at your own words, all spat out in a rush. âIâd rather prevent that. Warn you beforehand to make this easier for the both of us.â
âYouâre fucking delusional if you think any of that is ever going to happenâ he said. âYou have great creativity, though. Iâll give you that.â
He then began laughingâ simply that, laughing as if he hadnât in months.
A thick, guttural guffaw erupted from deep in his chest.
That echoing sound quickly twisted into something differentâ more desperate, something bordering on a gasp, a breathless choking.
âYouâre ridiculousâ Another gasp of air, a hiccup, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably âYouâre fucking ridiculous!â
His gaze rose again, fixing on you. Wide, shaky pupils pierced into you.
âWhat the fuckâ what the fuck are you saying? Do youâ shit! Do you hear yourself?â
You stayed silent, avoiding the judgment looming in his gaze.
âYouâre all I have! How can you be so fuckingâ so fucking clueless andâ â
His hiccups grew violent. He tried to sink into himself, to grow smaller, holding himself between his arms.
He hissed, pained, biting his tongue from saying something mean and dumb, curling his fingers in two tight fists.
âYouâre all I have left in thisâ this fucked-up world. Why would I ever leave you?â His voice cracked on the last syllables, his face scrunching up.
The strange cadence of his tone forced your gaze back to him.
âI donâtâ I wouldnât have any reason to do this at all. Not one reason if it wasnât for you. You are all I have, andâ â
He angrily wiped away unruly tears steaming down his cheeks.
Oh, this was fucking embarrassing.
âI justââ His voice wavered âThe need to keep you safe and secure is all Iâm doing this for. Really. If it wasnât for you, Iâd have blown my brains out the moment Lyra died. I miss her so much, y/nâ.
His face twisted, contracting in a snarl as an intrusive, unwanted memory clawed its way back into his mind.
âI miss her so much. Every day. Every fucking morning, I wake up, and the realization sheâs gone forever strikes me. I justâ I wonât ever get used to it. Itâs like renewing the pain of that day she died, over and over.â
Another crack in his voice. All the tension in his face finally released as he looked at you, as if heâd just regained some sort of awareness of the reality around him.
âBut then⌠thereâs youâ His breath hitched âYou keep me anchored, and the idea of losing you too is simply⌠fucking unbearable. Actually, itâs not a p-possibility at all.â
Youâd never seen Toby like this: exposed, fragile, like a little kid. It made your heart contract painfully into a pulp.
Even after Lyra died, heâd sucked it up, having it all together. He seemed like the one strong enough to keep going, figuring it all out. Life had always been unfair to him, ever since he was a kid; When youâre doomed to suffer, all you can do is learn to stand up and kick that bitch back.
But now something had changedâ your words had snapped the one fragile sting keeping all his pieces together. It was like all the shit heâd bottled upâ all the things heâd tried to suffocateâ were resurfacing, violent and terribly frightening.
âI canâtâ I canât go on. I could never go on if you left meâ â His breath was ragged as bitten-down hands came to lace his fingers with yours.
âI wonât. Iâm sorryâ.
âPromise?â His voice cracked. âI swear to God, if you leave, Iâ I donât know what Iâll do, but Iâll do something a-and i just know, i know it will be badâ.
âI wonât. Iâm sorry, baby. I didnât mean to upset you like thisâ.
You moved, sitting down with him so he could rest his head on your lap.
You moved the scarf enough to cover you both.
âI love you. I wonât leave. Okay?â You stroked his hair gently âThat was just my stupid, useless thoughts. I thought Iâd do you a favor by getting out of the way.â
âThatâd never be a favor for me.â His voice was firm âI donât care if youâre sad sometimes. If weâre stuck in the same place for ten daysâI donât care. We can stay here forever if you want, justâŚkeep caressing me like that, pleaseâ.
I love sharing useless informations nobody asked for but I gotta share my enthusiasm somewhere so
I love whenever I get like super obsessed with stuff like oh gosh suddenly all my problems are fixed and anxiety does not exist đââď¸
Iâm like going down, like going back super into the EMH hole after like idk years dude ever since middle school and itâs funny cause whenever summer approaches I get dragged back full force to the origins,, like last summer I started a Marble Hornets rewatch okay I love life I have a reason
OMGGGG đđđđ THAT WAS SOSO GOOD IM MELTINGGGG YOUR WRITING IS LITERALLY THE BEST YOU CHARACTERIZE EVERYONE SOSO WELL IM CRYING THANK YOU SOSO MUCH THIS WAS GOLD TO ME
I wish you so much luck on your exams! I'm sure you'll do amazing! also I totally get the idv thing, I'm not playing because of the boycott either and it's content like yours that makes it much easier to handle :) Thank you soso much again!
You're an incredible writer and I love how you make things! you're deeply inspiring! best of luck! đŤś
AHH YOU ARE JUST SUPER KIND BUT Iâm not gonna complain cause this made my day đââď¸đđź
Iâm glad this is of any help since the situation sucks :,) we just need to keep hoping theyâll address the matter soon
Consider! Trying to find a Kiss Proof lipstick by kissing Weepy, Andrew, And/Or Matthias with every single lipstick owned
Hehe :)
Kiss proof
ahh sorry I took a while but itâs exams season again and Iâm a bit tired and also havenât been playing Idv in some time now (also cause of the boycott) so Iâm not really âhyperâ abt it currently đ anyway I hope you enjoy! Wrote this this morning in class and Iâm publishing this now,, Iâm super duper tired so sorry itâs its shit 𫩠ALSO first time writing for Matthias woo!!
Tw: gender neutral as usual (adjectives used as so), tiiiiiny suggestive on Andrewâs (literally just mentions of making out).
As much as you enjoyed makeup, finding the right products for you was such a hassle it ruined the whole experience.
It wasnât only difficult to pick the right shades and texturesâ you also had to think about durability, of course.
Being out all day long, whether for studying or workâ whatever your routine demanded of youâ you definitely couldnât risk looking like a smashed cake by the time you stepped foot back into your house.
Rightfully so, you decided to put all your products to the test: mascara, eyeliner and, most importantly, your lipsticks.
You thought itâd be easy workâ simply applying a layer over your lips, finding something to use as a test subject, and finally deciding on the poor pigmentâs fate.
But oh, had you been wrong.
Not only did you own so many lipsticks it wouldâve taken hours to test them all, but youâd also ignored the most crucial part: what could possibly make a good subject for your little experiment?
Just as despair began to swell inside you, you heard the door to the room you shared with your boyfriend slowly creak open.
Weeping clown đ
Jokerâs head peeked through the doorway almost shyly. It had been quite a while since you two got together, yet he was still timid, wary, almost tiptoeing around your presence. Of course, deep down, he still couldnât believe you had actually chosen himâ to settle down with, at that!
It was unbelievable.
Getting to see that pretty face of yours every single day.
âHey, Iâm sorry to interrupt whatever you were doingâ I just wanted to ask what you wanted for dinner?â
You turned toward him, eyes lighting up as your mind stumbled upon the greatest realization it couldâve possibly had.
âJoker! Of course! Come here!â
He didnât even get the chance to ask what you meant before you grabbed his hand and pulled him down beside you.
The bed emitted a small thud beneath his weight as he looked at the mess of lipstick tubes scattered across the sheets.
âOh, youâve been experimenting with your makeup, dear?â
âNot really. Honestly, Iâve been thinking about going on a whole shopping spree to renew my entire stashâ.
âReally? Thatâs a shame. I think the ones you already have really suit youâ.
âYou think?â
He hummed softly, taking one of the tubes and twisting the cap open.
Then he leaned closer, gently applying a dark crimson shade over your lips.
âAh, so beautiful!â
You picked up your pocket mirror to look at yourself.
âThis oneâs my favorite. Maybe youâre rightâ I donât need to throw them all away. I can just sort them out. Want to help?â
âOf course. What can I do?â
âJust⌠stay still, alright?â
He nodded eagerly, hands resting at his sides as he waited for whatever you had planned.
You studied yourself in the mirror one last time before leaning over to kiss his cheek.
âAhâ! I didnât know that was part of your planâŚâ he squeaked, clearly not expecting your sudden affection as you went back looking into the small mirrorâs frame.
Your lips had left behind a dark, yet faint stamp where they met his skin, the color still clinging to your mouth surprisingly well.
âMm. Seems like this oneâs staying.â
Then you tried anotherâ a brighter, more vivid red.
This time, you planted a kiss on the tip of his nose.
A much bolder stain remained behind.
âThank God, I hated this one!â You tossed the lipstick away, landing it perfectly inside the nearby trash can with a metallic clink.
Another lipstickâ yet another kiss.
His mouth, the corner of his lips, beneath his eyes.
By the time you finished testing them all, his face was covered in stains; Fainter or intense, a million shades of the same color and countless different pigments all the same. It was honestly a little funnyâ he looked like the walking canvas of some contemporary art piece.
You giggled at the sight of him.
âAh, do I amuse you, dear?â He couldnât help but laugh too after seeing your expression.
âYou know, maybe this look actually suits you. You should think about using it for one of your performancesâ.
âYou think?â
âTotallyâ.
âWell, now that you mention my performances, I should probably sort through my own equipment too. Itâs been quite some timeâŚâ
âAnd?â you prompted. You knew exactly where this was going.
âIt would only be fair if you returned the favor I so kindly gave you, no?â
âOh, you are not staining my entire face!â You quickly got up, backing away.
He followed after you, still giggling.
âOh, donât be mean! Donât you love me enough to help me too?â
You kept retreating until your back hit the wardrobe. By then, he had already wrapped his arms around you.
âNuh-uh! Never!â You slipped out of his grasp almost immediately, darting out the door while laughing.
âOh, youâre unfair! Youâre not getting away with this! Come here, darling!â He ran after you, snatching one of the lipstick tubes on the way out.
Andrew Kreiss đŞ
Andrewâs frame appeared in the doorway as it opened slowly.
âHey⌠Iâm back from workââ
He cut himself off as you nearly jumped out of your spot on the edge of the bed, the sudden movement making the lip gloss you were applying smear down your chin.
âAndrew! Goshâ you scared meâ.
âIâm sorry, lovely. I just wanted to let you know I got out of work earlyâ.
âItâs okay. Iâm sorry too, I didnât mean to scream at youâ you sighed, grabbing a mirror to inspect the brownish stain trailing down your face.
âThat color looks really flattering on youâ He walked over and sat beside you, awkward as ever.
It was honestly funny. No matter how much time you spent together, no matter how intimate things became between you, he still behaved as though you had only just started datingâ all stiff shoulders and nervous glances.
Thatâs why it surprised you when he reached out on his own, brushing his thumb over your chin to wipe away the mess heâd accidentally caused.
âIâm sorry I made you waste your lipstickâ.
âOh, itâs not a big deal, donât worry⌠actuallyââ
You moved closer, your breath warm against his face before pressing a kiss against his lips.
He instantly tensed, leaning back while his hands moved to loosen the collar around his neck.
âUh⌠I didnât expect thatâ he pointed out the obvious, eyes drifting away from yours as he clasped his hands tightly together on his lap.
His pale lips were now stained with the same chestnut shade decorating your own.
âDo you mind? I was actually trying them on to figure out which ones to keep and which ones to throw away, and it turns out your skin is way more comfortable than kissing napkinsâ you giggled.
âOh. Well, itâs my pleasure⌠I can help you, if you want?â
âWell, who am I to refuse when you insist so much?â
He offered you a faint smile before scooting closer again, carefully pushing strands of pale white hair behind his ears to give you more room for whatever you needed to do.
It didnât take long before his face was completely covered in stains and, honestly, he looked like a complete mess.
Your rather peculiar taste in colors definitely didnât help.
There were pale violets and electric blues near his templesâ he looked as though heâd been beaten up.
Black smudges stained his cheeks. Lip-shaped marks covered his forehead and, above all else, his mouth soon ended up ruined. An incident somewhere along the wayâ color smeared far beyond the edges of his lips, as if heâd been devoured whole.
But how were you supposed to help yourself?
Whenever you kissed him he got flustered so easily that it only made you want to push him further, tease him past his limits.
You two had ended up fully making out somewhere in the middle of the experimentâ a sweet little accident, at least.
Lipsticks had been long forgotten and abandoned on the sheets, some still left half-open.
âBe careful, theyâre going to stain the bed!â
âWe can clean it later, âDrew, come on. I still need to finish my test!â You wiped your own mouth, just as messy as his.
âI thought it was over?â
âI just got distracted, thatâs all. Come on, donât quit on me nowâ.
âYou know that even if I wanted to, I couldnâtâhe sighed, already bracing himself as you leaned in once again.
Matthias Czernin đŞľ
Matthias knocked before walking into your room.
There you were, staring at yourself through a compact mirror while your finger wiped leftover lipstick from your lips. You grunted under your breath, muttering a quiet curse as he watched you silently from the doorway.
Just standing there, taking you in.
You looked beautiful.
If heâd told you that in that moment, you wouldâve probably scoffed, denied it outright, then gotten embarrassed afterward.
It was true that you looked messyâ lipstick smeared across your mouth, black mascara clumped beneath your eyesâ yet the more he looked at you, the more something warm and comforting pooled inside his chest. Something so overwhelmingly big it almost made him dizzy.
In moments like these, he often found himself wonderingâ whether to the universe or simply to himself, he wasnât sureâ how he had managed to get this lucky for once in his life.
Maybe you really were some sort of apology from the universe for everything he had endured.
Or maybe not an apology.
Maybe you were simply the reason to stay.
A sign to keep going.
Whatever it was, the more he looked at you, the more unreal it felt that you had chosen him.
Him.
You couldâve had anyone you wanted, yet you chose to spend your life beside him.
Not even Luis.
Him, and him alone.
He approached carefully, resting a hand against your shoulder.
âIs everything okay?â
âNoâ yes. Itâs nothing, sorry. Iâm just annoyed. I came home and realized Iâd spent the entire day walking around looking like a clownâ.
âYou donât look like a clown. I think you look pretty.â
âYeah, well, I feel stupid.â
He sat beside you quietly.
âIt always happens like this. Ugh. Some of this makeup just doesnât last long enoughâ.
âWell, you do have a lot of it. Maybe itâd help to sort out the ones that upset you with-âŚâ he gestured vaguely toward your face.
âYouâre right, I shouldâ. You sighed, standing up to grab a plastic basket from your vanity filled with different lipstick tubes.
âI can start with theseâ.
âOh. Right now?â
âYeah. No point waitingâ Your hands froze in the middle of rummaging through the basket as you looked at him. âDo you want to help me?â
âHelp you?â
âYeah, help me test them. I need to see how durable each one isâ.
âUh⌠okay. Of course. Should I put these on too?â
You laughed softly at that. He gave you the faintest hint of a smile, though he clearly didnât understand what had amused you.
âNo, no. Just stay still, alright?â
He nodded obediently, watching as you opened a gloss and dragged the wand carefully over your lips.
He stared at you through half-lidded eyes in utter awe, patiently waiting exactly as you had askedâ until he suddenly stiffened at an unexpected kiss.
âOhââ
He stayed frozen as though heâd just been flash-banged while you pulled away to inspect the faint velvet stain left behind on his lips.
âMm. Decent enoughâ.
âWas that part of your⌠test?â
âYeah. Youâre a huge help, just stay still, okay baby?â
And so, you continued.
Wiping, reapplying, changing shades over and over againâ and with every new lipstick came another kiss.
Eventually, there wasnât a single clean spot left on his face.
And every single time, he reacted with the same stunned expression, as though you hadnât kissed him ten times already within the last few minutes.
You had put on some wine red gloss as you kissed him once, twice, then again- color slowly fading from your lips.
âI think you forgot to change your lipstickâŚâ
âMm, no. Iâm doneâ you muttered against his lips before kissing him once more âThis oneâs just for me. Personal test. No lipsticks involvedâ.
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Guys Iâm sorry I planned on posting something these days but Iâve just got back from my trip to nyc and I didnât manage to write on the plane as I planned đ
Hi!!! Sorry i been gone for so ling lufe has been unfortunately killing međĽš, dude that was SO PEAK AND GOOD. Genuinely cannot put into words how much i love that fic so much KYAAA,,,,ill never get over how u write and characterize antonio its so good !2)2(2)2( thank you do much for feeding me once moreâŚ.-đť
That one guy that no one invited heyâŚ.would if be ok if u wrote antonio ver of the worship fics pleasd if thats okđđđđđđ also hi !!! -đť
A loverâs praise- Antonio Verđť
Omg hii Antonio anon itâs been a while!! Sorry I took a bit aizkwk this feels a bit tasteless like a piece of wet white break but I hope you enjoy nonetheless đż
Tw: manor not mentioned, as usual gender neutral (used adjectives like âprettyâ that way), scars.
Antonio had definitely not been a prude during his life, nor one to get easily embarrassed or ashamed of himself in any way. Not necessarily as a show-offâ more so, he simply didnât particularly care.
Even after so long, his soul having been almost fully taken over by the demon he had sacrificed it to in one last attempt to finally achieve that level of satisfaction in music he had always craved, yet somehow struggled to reachâ he did not have the right mind, nor the ability, to pay enough attention to such trivial things.
He managed to get what he wanted, when he wanted, always- one way or another. Putting the notes that resonated in his mind onto paper was all that mattered anyway. Plus, he was way too oldâ he could not waste any more time on silly, futile matters. Nothing impressed him anymore; Nothing could move him enough to change the way he was, too strongly rooted in his dense brain. Plus, caring about his appearance wouldnât have changed his way of doing music, so he truly did not need to spend energies on that.
Well, almost nothingâ until you came along.
Like a tornado, you short-circuited all the wires within his head, making him act like a stupid fool. You were pretty, too pretty. Radiant, kindâ everything he was not.
He tried many times to figure out what you saw in him, why you would ever want to be with someone like him in the first place- yet all those questions seemed to remain unanswered. He just could not understand why.
Why?
He had never been one to feel self-conscious, yet you made him so.
Of course, that was not intentional.
He knew he looked weird, to say the least: those long, ragged scars all across his face; The void of his eyes; His hair. Not a conventionally attractive man, one could say. No longer a man at all.
How ridiculous is it to worry about your appearance when you are inhabited by a demon?
Yet there you were, standing in his bedroom to change for the night, and he could not peel his eyes off you. Fabric slid over your body, and he could almost feel it on his own skinâ a shiver.
It was ridiculous, feeling all anxious when he was the one inviting you over in the first place.
You turned to face him, walking over to him.
âThanks again for letting me spend the night here. Iâm actually kinda nervousâ... hey, are you okay?â
âYes, I am. Donât worry, darlingâ
âAre you sure? Also, arenât you going to change?â
You had barely finished speaking before he dragged you down to him, winding your body in his hair.
âIâm good like thisâ.
âOh, you canât be serious! Come on!â
You tried to break free and help him take his shirt off, but another strand of hair came to stop your hands.
âHey!â
He laughed.
âYou canât be serious. Your clothes are dirty!â
âThey seem quite clean to me, dearâ.
âIâm not going to sleep in a dirty bedâ.
âOh, blackmailing me now?â
He let go of you, sat on the edge of the bed, and kept laughing to himselfâ something like a tired giggleâ as he swept a hand down his face.
âCome on,â you said again, leaning over his shoulder.
âI am not sure about that, sweetheartâ.
âWhy not? Is there a problem?â
âYeah, there isâ.
You frowned, confused, as a million possibilities flashed through your mind.
âIs it me?â
âThatâs not what I meant, and you know it, sweetheartâ.
âThen whatâs wrong?â
âYou have that smart brain of yours. You already know...â
âItâs clear I donât. Enlighten me.â
He let out a small grunt, bony thumb hovering over your right cheek.
âOh, you are evil, wanting to make me admit it out loud. Itâs sillyâ.
He took one of your hands and moved it under his shirt. Your fingers traced along his skin, feeling all the bumps and rough edges of his scars. His hardened, scaly torso.
âDo you get it now? Donât act cluelessâ.
âIs it because of your scars?...â
âMm. See? Told you youâve got a sharp mind.â
You sighed, your hand still resting on his abdomen.
âI donât want you to feel pressured into doing anything youâre not comfortable with... but I donât get itâ.
âWhat is it that you donât understand?â
âDo you think it bothers me? Like, the fact that you have scars? Do you think itâs an issue? Because I guarantee, itâs not.â
âI just feel... embarrassed, my dear. Ah! For the first time in so long. Iâm just not fit for you, and I thought you might finally understand that as well once you saw me all bare and exposed. I can no longer pretend if you take all my defenses awayâ.
âOh, Antonio... this is so silly. None of that is going to happen. Of course Iâm going to stay. You could be invisible orâ I donât knowâ not have a body at all, for all I care. I love you for youâ.
Your hand slid out from under his shirt, coming up to trace his jawline.
âAh, youâre just too used to having me aroundâ.
âYeah, probably. But I wouldnât want it any other wayâ.
You crawled on top of him, kissing his jaw all the way up to the corner of his lips.
âMy beautiful man...â
One hand kept tracing his skin, the path of one particularly deep scar that connected to his collarbone.
âSo handsomeâ.
âOh, come on. With all the talking, youâre playing dirtyâ.
âPerhaps. But I really need to get it into that thick brain of yours that you are fucking perfect, get it?â
âKeep moving like this, and I think I will remember quite wellâ.
Well then đđ How about Andrew and/or Weepy with a partner that likes to worship them- not even sexually, they just love every part of them, including that body that so disgusts them. They're both so cute! I wanna kiss them and hold them tenderly as I tell them so!
A loverâs praise đŞť
Lowkey mid but I feel a bit rusty okay cause Iâve been on a creative block 𫩠also omg probably over focused on the fact theyâre insecure as fuck but uhm, anyway hope you enjoy!
Tw: just tiny mention of past abuse/ hullabaloo incident (not completely canon! Actually yeah free style of some stuff on Andrew too probably but who cares), mentions of scars, burns and insecurity, slightly suggestive (?), this is set in a âmodernâ setting, No manor mentioned!
đŞŚAndrewâ¨Having been ostracized, made fun of, and rejected his entire life, itâs natural for the idea of being completely unlikable to be deeply rooted inside him.â¨I mean, look at itâ nobody had ever been nice, nobody had ever even made the attempt to spare a word of kindness toward him. And if everyone did so, if that had been a recurring topos of his life, then maybe, just maybe, there had to be a reason, no?â¨His mom had been an exception, that was true, yet everyone said it: it did not count. Mothers somehow always love their children, have toâ how heartbreaking would it be to admit youâve failed, spent nine agonizing months just for it to turn out to be a deluding, utter mess? A misplaced pulp of eyes and hair, all discolored, weird-looking.â¨No, even a roachâs mother drowns its kids in praise and appreciation.â¨But when you came along, oh, it seemed like all those worries could finally be silenced.
Heâd be definitely shy at first, to have you see his body in any way. Not just necessarily naked, even mere glimpses here and there would be enough to make him dismiss you, tell you he remembered he had something to do, somewhere to go.
There was one time, after a particularly intense work day, when Andrew had come back completely wrecked.â¨He was all sunburnt on his face and scalp, as you tried to put some ice and hydrating cream over the reddened, scorching skin.â¨As if it wasnât enough, heâd well thought to put short sleeves on that day; It was a hot mid-spring day after allâ a cloudy one at that too. Of course, how could he not have thought sun rays could still be unkind even when not so visible?â¨You moved to treat his burnt arms.
âUh, can you take your shirt off? I need to see if thereâs more under thereâ.
Andrewâs expression turned uncomfortable, fidgeting with his hands as he slowly swayed away from his position beside you on the bed.
âUhâ I just remembered I have to go!.. Iâve been asked toââ
âNuh uh, not this timeâ.
You took his hand, crumbling whichever resolve heâd planned on using to flee the situation.
âI just donât understand why youâre always trying to run, whenever we get to this point!â
âI am notâŚâ
âYes, you are! And itâs confusing! I mean, weâve been together for so long now⌠am I the problem? Do I make you uncomfortable?â
âNo, no, thatâs not the issue!â He held his palm up, as if to signal you to stop dwelling in whatever thoughts were beginning to form in your mind, before sighing, pale eyelashes fluttering closed for a minute too long before fluttering open again. Shaky, faint irises looked at you, brows furrowed as if he was suddenly connecting the dots, offended by the mere suggestion of you being the problem.â¨âItâs meâ Iâm just⌠grotesqueâ.
âWhat?â
You scoffed, as if heâd said the stupidest thing in the world.
âIâm objectively gross, a monsterâ I am weird. Itâs something Iâve come to make amends with, butâŚâ he gestured nervously with his hands on his lap âitâs something I thought was just part of me by now⌠but then you came in my life and it justâ it messed with my brain, I suppose?â
âWhat are you even saying?â
âI donât want you to see meâ the complete me. Youâd be disgusted and run awayâ â
âNo, itâsâ I donât understand why you would ever say something like that, Andrew.â
His gaze, roaming and trying to avoid your eyes as much as he could, finally trailed back to you, confused.
âI like you, âDrew. Any part of you, and I could show you if you let meâ.
âBut youâve yet to see me, you cannot be so sure.â
His stubbornness had you roll your eyes, taking his hands in yours.â¨Your thumb traced his wrist, soothing motions that sent a shiver down his spine.
âYou are the prettiest person Iâve ever seen in my life, really. I donât care who made you feel less than that, but it does not matter now.â
Itâd definitely take a while, and more than a little sweet talking, but then heâd finally give up.â¨Reluctantly taking his shirt off as he finally revealed himself to your watchful gaze.
His pale, ivory white skin, scarred here and there, faint bruises from whatever recent incident at work.â¨Your hand moved to caress his cheek, then traced down; His neck, then all the way to the sides of his torso. He was quite tall, and lean for thatâ yet you could see the outline of muscles on his arms, a bit on his shoulders and abdomen as well. All those marks and signs told his storyâ wounds from past years, when he was kicked and beaten by other kids after his mother had died, too weak to defend himself. The muscles heâd naturally grown out of years of work holding the shovel and scooping dirt in and out for graves.
âI really donât get itâ.
âWhat donât you get?â
âHow you could ever be insecure⌠might be biased âcause I love you, yes, but even that aside⌠youâre perfectly normalâ.
He played with his hands again, nervousness and embarrassment forming an explosive, dangerous mix.
You kissed his cheek, both hands now pressed firmly on his chest.
âActually, if I have to be completely honest you might be even more than simply normalâŚyouâre perfectâ.
âYouâve said it yourself, youâre biasedâ.
You couldnât help but giggle, and he smiled. How he loved that sweet sound.
âTrue, but I really canât grasp how I got so lucky, yâknow?â
A small hiss escaped from his lips as you bit down his neck.
âI love whenever you hug me and your hair start to tickle me, making me all giggly like and idiotâŚâ you buried your face in his neck.
âI love your eyes, the way they crease at the sides just slightly whenever you come back and see Iâm already home. Your scent, I could recognize anywhere. Your chest, your arms, your handsâŚâ
You closed your eyes, circling him with your arms.
âGlad to see youâre not burned on the rest of your body, though. Would have ruined this beautiful vision, mh?â.
đWeeping Clownâ¨Weepy had always been an impulsive person, in a way; The fact he burned down the entirety of Hullabaloo after his little âincidentâ was just the epitome of that.â¨However, actions have consequences, especially bad ones.â¨Who would know better than him?
His rage on the circus had meant to be revenge for what heâd been through, how half his face (and career) had been compromised forever by Sergiâs blind cruelty. Yet heâd paid for that impulsivity quite dearly, as seen in the way heâd found himself after the explosion.â¨He was sloppy, messy, not careful enough. One detonation after the otherâ one explosive had gone off on him, and even though he was lucky enough not to lose his hand, it had left mean, dark scars all over his right arm, his abdomen, some torn tissue on his sane leg as well.
Heâd escaped, tried to rebuild a life far away from that massacre, to keep it behind him. Yet every time he walked down the street someone turned their head to stare, whispering about himâ he was sure. Every time he caught a glimpse of himself in whatever reflective surface, he felt a sense of disgust so deep his stomach churned and twisted into knots to the point he needed to throw up.
His body was a shapeless mass, assembled in a moment in which Godâ or whatever deity had decided it was a good idea to create himâ had clearly run out of pieces. Here a bit of what remains, there some other rejects. He was like a broken engine, useless and ugly.
Partially, that rejection of himself also came from a strange sense of shame. Not quite guilt, but a constant fear someone would come to him one day and make him face what heâd really done.â¨Living in fear and despair. Oh, why didnât he die as well that day?
But then, one day, heâd met you. Youâ oh, perfect you!â¨You who did not judge him, who saw past him, past his ugly face and dirty mind. You were like a cure, the antidote to his misery.
Of course, the hatred he harbored toward himself was something he couldnât hide from you, something youâd well taken notice of since the first day you met him.â¨And you tried, kept trying to make his esteem a bit better. He was somewhat decent with makeup, and liked to share what heâd learned in the circus with you. Dressing up in silly ways, putting on weird looks.â¨You liked it too, and so helped him with it.
Makeup made him feel better, especially when it was bold and theatricalâ it was like hiding behind a mask, though it made him confident, so it was a good compromise.
âHey, since you like putting on all those crazy colors on your face, can I full-body paint you?â youâd suggested one evening.â¨âYâknow, kinda like they do in cosplays and stuffâŚâ
He tensed as you finished painting his face white.
âUh, Iâm not sure itâs a good ideaâ.
âWhy?â
âItâs just notâ He scoffed, gesturing dismissively.
âAre you afraid?â
âWhatâ â
âAre you uncomfortable toâ you know, take your shirt off?â
Your straightforwardness had surely not been something heâd expected. He tried to keep his voice steady, yet the borderline terror in it was unmistakable.
âWhatâ no, itâs just not the timeââ
âYou can be honest with me. Iâm sorry if I ever made you feel bad orâ â
âNo, no, no! No, itâs completely wrongâ His voice broke a pitch higher âYou have done nothing wrong. Nothing. Youâve helped me a lot ever since I met you, itâs justâŚâ He looked down at himself, as if trying to X-ray through the fabric of his clothes. He could already imagine itâ your expression of horror when you finally saw him, the naked, real him.â¨âI have been in an incidentâ Iâve told you, havenât I? The same one that gave me thisâŚâ he gestured vaguely at the scar on the left side of his face.â¨âItâs bad⌠spread across my body as well. Itâs not a cute sight, dear.â
âDo you think I care?â
He looked confused. He tried to reply, but you were quick to resume talking.
âDo you think I care that you have more scars? You really think Iâm gonnaâ what, run away for that?â
âItâs not justâ itâs⌠gross. Real gross stuff. I donâtâ donât want you to think differently of me.â
You rubbed your temples.
âYou really think so lowly of me?â
âItâs not what I meant!â His eyes widened. The last thing he wanted was to upset you.â¨âItâs just⌠really worse than anything you can imagine. Youâre going to leave after you see it. Youâre going to leave andâ and see that Iâm really just a rotten monster, after allâŚâ
âHey, calm downâ You pressed a small kiss to the tip of his nose.â¨âNothing of the nonsense youâre saying will ever happen⌠letâs make a deal, okay?â
He looked at you, silent acceptance as you spoke again.
âIâve not lived the situations you have, but if you show me your scars, Iâll show you the worst I have. What do you think?â
âBut itâs notâ â
âAll the things I am insecure about! Really, itâs going to be like a secret we only know about.â
â⌠â
You caressed his hair as he leaned into your touch.
âPlease, just promise youâre not going to be disgustedâ.
âI am not, pinky promiseâ.
He nodded, and finally showed you everything underneath his upper garments, sliding his scarf off as well.â¨His body was lanky, bones peeking out of the thin layers of skin as he crossed his arms over his chest, as if trying to cover as much as possible. You could see burn scars littering sparse across his tissues.
He stood up in an unexpected jump, the entire situation suddenly feeling all too intense and unbearable.
âHappy now?â
You did not speak, simply followed him up.â¨You went behind him, turning him to face a wall mirror hung up in your room as you held him, kissing the side of his neck.
âSee?â
He forced his eyes shut.
âCome on, open your eyes real quick.â
âI canâtâ I canâtââ
âHeyâŚâ
He gasped, finally forcing his eyes wide open as he stared back at the image ahead of him.
His breath was heavy, liked heâd just emerged back up after sinking down, almost drowning.
âItâs so disgustingâ his voice came out shaky, as if he was trying his hardest not to cry.
âItâs notâ.
âIt is!â
You kissed his neck again, then lifted your own shirt.
You pointed somewhere near your ribcage. âSee? Iâve got a scar here. Looks similar to yours, doesnât it? Itâs such a silly story, tooâŚâ
Then another point somewhere on your skin.â¨And another.
Each time, you caressed the corners of his scars, fingers tracing the skin gently, leaning in to kiss him.
You made sure to imprint those moments well in his brain so every time heâd ever see those scars again, feel them under his touch, heâd feel the ghosts of your kisses to make it all sweeter.
Your words were soothing, more so your presence there, secure behind him.â¨You were not leaving after seeing him.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Okay nobody asked but Iâm so proud of myself for once cause Iâve always struggled with doing things alone/start stuff/go places due to social anxiety and Iâve actually been trying to work on it for a while now (apart from past therapy) AND this evening I went to see a movie on my own at this cinema which is like close but not super close to my house yk jakzjw
It was a bit scary but Iâm glad I did it :D
Anyway going to work on commissions once I get on the bus (hopefully) đââď¸
ahah- sorry! I had been stalking your IDV posts for a while before I got the courage to send an ask! Love them all, by the way
AHHH throwing up, crying this is so cool sjsjwjns đ Iâm so so happy you like them and I always appreciate when people leave stuff in my inbox qjsjwns
I might need to write more soon, but if you want you can always leave suggestions đââď¸
I am the way that I am cause ever since I was a kid I used to beg my mom (say every day, for the entirety of kindergarten and probably some elementary too) not to forget me, forget to come pick me up and cling cause I was afraid of being forgotten.
âTell the people at work you have a daughter to pick up blah blah waaaaaaaâ
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is LIVE right now
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Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
I was thinking (wow) and figured that one kind of characters I love the most are females who are not understood for their whismy and/or had their entire life, energy and everything nice ruined by a fucking man (or other bad circumstances, bad people)
For example Debra Morgan, Pandora from skins, or Jane the killer (I knew what I was on when I was a kid)
Ik it seems all unrelated ok but I swear thereâs like a string connecting them all just in different ways
My girls I love, mourn and miss you all, you deserves sm more đđđđđđđđ
âŕŞâŁ Andrewâs always been the perfect Christian, an example of devotion. So why did you have to come and taint him?
Tw: Andrewâs not okay and very paranoid , hinted necrophilia (sort of? Nothing explicit though), religious themes (of course, weâre in Andrewâs prospective), just a bad dynamic in general so beware. Also probably non canon but you know the drill
He was kind, gentle, and always tried his bestâ so why couldnât he be loved like anyone else?
Andrew needed faith to believe destiny wasnât completely in his clumsy, incapable hands.
He was unreliable and cursed, a complete messâ heâd known it for a long time. Maybe those people in the village were right. Maybe he was Satanâs spawn.
Heâd tried to repent, to devote his life to God. What else could he be, if not a tool for Him?
Heâd been a good Christian, a vesselâ like all humans are supposed to be, after all. Serving the purpose of the divine as a âthank youâ for the gift of life.
Deep down, he convinced himself that martyrdom wouldâve been worth it in the end.
The more you suffer during lifeâ a formality, a physical stage to reach heavenâ the more one is destined for something greater waiting beyond.
He wore the product of his suffering with prideâ every scar, every bruise like a symbol, a reminder to just hold on a little longer before reaching up, upâ
He woke up panting again.
A shadow moved in his peripheral vision. Was it you? It couldnât be. You were usually asleep by then.
The clock tickedâ steady, petulant.
3:30.
What a dreadful hour to wake.
It had started happening often, waking in the middle of the night like this. When was the last time heâd had decent sleep?
His cold fingers rose to trace the deepening shadows beneath his pale eyes.
It made him shiver with a certain satisfaction.
He was undeserving of rest. Of comfort. More servitude.
Vessel, vessel, vesselâ
No time for peace.
And yet⌠how inconsistent everything had become when he met you.
He was filthy that dayâ mud caked across his face and hands, curled in a small cemetery alcove after a long day of digging graves.
You walked in.
Visiting someone, he assumed.
You looked too brightâ too heavenly to be human. He had never seen someone like you.
Still, it didnât feel strange to see you there. Somehow, it fitted just right.
What better place for angels to wander than where life and death meet?
He watched you stand before a couple of graves as you passed by, reading the names of strangersâ old ghosts long forgotten.
It was rare, to see someone pay respect to those they didnât know. Humanity had seemed to decay so much as of lately.
How gracious, heâd thought.
He followed at a distance, just enough to see you kneel at another grave and pray.
For someone you knew?
Or perhaps blessing a stranger?
If so, then you truly had to be something otherworldly.
He began seeing you often after that. Maybe youâd always been there, and he just started to notice.
In his selfishness, he had prayedâ again and againâ for something good. Anything. Just once.
After his final Hail Mary each night, arms wrapped around himself, heâd whisper:
Please. Just this once.
And thenâ you came.
A sign.
A gift.
Something he could not afford to waste.
The first time he spoke to you, it was simple.
âIs everything alright? I see you here oftenâŚâ
And then came the pansies.
A small bouquetâ purple, vivid. The flower of thought. Given to friends⌠or perhaps what we call lovers.
Seeing you became the sweetest part of his days.
You laughed at his clumsy words.
Brought him slicesâ sometimes entire halvesâ of new recipes you tried.
âYou thought of me?â
You even offered to help with his work.
He always insisted you didnât need to dirty your handsâ that your presence alone was enough.
But you were stubborn.
Impossible to dissuade.
And he liked that.
It meant you werenât acting out of pity. You were sincereâ more than anyone he had ever known in his lonely, miserable life.
He promised God he would remain loyal.
That the small crush growing inside him would not distract him from his duties.
He needed that reassurance.
He could not risk Godâs angerâ not now, not when he had finally found something good.
But still, a part of him felt uneasy.
He was kind, gentle, and always tried his best.
Yet he could not be loved like anyone else.
He never told you how he truly felt.
He didnât need to.
What you had was special. Pure. Deep.
A soul bond.
It had to be.
Why else would someone like you keep spending time with someone like him?
It was fate. Something natural. Inevitable.
He had been doomed from the very first glance.
Perhaps you were never a blessing.
Perhaps you were a curse.
Disrupting his carefully crafted peace. His fragile, obedient path.
You stood into his humble shack.
Wood creaked as you sat in the rocking chair, staring out into the foggy December night.
He prepared your favorite dishâ spent nearly everything on the finest meat he could find.
You didnât touch it.
Didnât even look at him.
That wasnât fair.
He knew he couldnât offer muchâ but he was devoted. Entirely yours.
Wasnât that enough?
Clearly not.
He had seen you.
One dayâ outside the cemetery gatesâ walking beside another man.
Laughing playfully.
His hands wrapped around your arms.
His heart stopped.
The shovel trembled in his grip.
The next time he saw you, he made a mistake.
âWho was it?â
âWhat?â
âI saw you. With a gentleman.â
âI donâtâ this isâ â
âDo you not like me?â
âItâs not thatâ â
âYou donât like me! Why? Am I not good enough? I can be! Iâve seen how people treat those they love, like trash! Canât appreciate such fortuneâ I give everything, body and soul, and you just disregard it!â
âYou need to calm downââ
âNoâ.
His face twistedâ red, contorted into something unrecognizable.
His eyes darted wildly, replaying the scene again and again.
Proof.
Betrayal.
Deception.
You had tricked him.
Of course you had.
The devil never appears ugly.
Noâ he appears beautiful. Trustworthy. Gentle.
He earns your trust⌠and leads you to sin.
Even Lucifer was a beautiful angel once.
Andrew staggered back, horror overtaking his expression.
âYou were sent as a test, werenât you?â he whispered. âI know it. Youâre a demonâ a hellspawn. Sent to drag my soul into your infernoâ.
âYouâre speaking nonsenseâŚâ you stepped closer, careful. âPlease. Letâs talkââ
There was no going back.
Your image warped in his mindâ stained, smeared, unrecognizable.
Who had you ever been?
Something snapped.
Clean. Final. Irreversible.
âStay away! I renounce the lie that Satan controls my life. God is in control!â
You stepped closer. That entire situation looked absurd.
âStay away!â
âStopââ
He caressed your head.
Your hair was tangled.
That was unfortunate.
âIâll help you, dear. You must be tiredâŚâ
He carried you to his bed. Mattress creaking under your weight as he sat beside you.
Boney fingers combed through your hair.
The argument must have upset you, youâd been cold ever since.
You needed time.
That was fine.
He could wait.
Forever, if needed.
âI know youâre still angryâŚâ he murmured, shame threading through every word.
âI was a fool. Accusing you⌠I hope you can forgive me, my dearâ.
He rested his head on your lap, holding your cold hands.
âIâll spend the rest of my life making it up to youâŚâ
He looked up at you, lashes fluttering.
âYouâre everything to meâ.
He sat up again and kissed you.
Soft, chaste- at the right corner of your lips.
Donât get him wrong: ever since the first moment heâd spoken with you, youâd put such weird ideas in his mindâŚthings heâd never thought before! Impure, yet they made his heart flutter each time he pictured you so close, on top of him, straddling his lap and making him cry and beg like a pathetic dog.
But that had to wait, wouldâve been a seal for your union the day he gained enough money to buy the best ring he could find. For now, heâd just please you differentlyâ when you took baths together, hands trailing down, feather light touch.
You were always so timid, never showing him too much of what you were feeling. You did not want to make him feel pressed to please you, thought you were burdensomeâ but it was so silly. Of course he did not mind!
The greatest joy for him was to seeing you content and satisfied.
It always felt wrong, whenever he did. But as long as you were happy, maybe God wouldâve understood, too.
He prayed to repent, whispering forgiveness for sins, actions that could not be undone. He tried to pray far from your watchful gaze.
Youâd probably thought he was praying because he found you revolting, but that couldnât be further from the truth! He prayed for himself.
He would wait.
For the day he could buy you a ring.
For the day everything would be right again.
Until then, he would care for you.
Provide.
Repent.
Pray.
It became routine.
Eating.
Bathing.
Sleeping.
Working.
Returning to you.
Holding you through the night.
âIâm going to get more ice for the cooler, okay?â he whispered, nestling you gently into a finely crafted casket heâd stolen from an empty slot at the cemetery.